Dreaming in City Lights

I dream of you underneath the starry rural skies
And I can’t wait to dream with you ‘neath the bright city lights

Love Letters

My gestures could be love letters
With the way that they so blatantly
Call out for you

I am scared to let go of my sadness. It has become such a big part of my life that I don’t know what I would be without it, and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?

I am scared to be left alone in this terrible world filled with terrible people. My fear is so much a part of me that I don’t know what I’d do if not worrying about what is to become of the mess of a person I’ve become, and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?

I am scared to try and fix myself. I am scared to try and become a better person because if I’m a better person then it will just hurt more when I **** up and isn’t it better to stick with something familiar rather than throwing your entire personality away on the off chance that you’ll get better?

I’ve seen myself in love poems from broken boys. I’ve seen myself in the raging ocean, the gusting wind, the blazing heat.

I’ve seen myself in small wildflowers forcing their way through cement, small spots of beauty and tenderness in this broken world.

I’ve seen myself through the cracked mirror in the bathroom and the shattered glances shot at me across rooms.

I found myself in your arms, in the love that you give unconditionally, in the tears in your eyes when you look at me.

I found myself in you.

What are we,
if not stardust
and bone?

What are we,
if not the strength
that flows through us?

What are we,
if not breath and
blood and spirit?

What are we,
if not feral,
wild, and free?

What are we,
if not human?

Inside, I am nothing more than a child
with a branch for a toy sword,
Brandishing it up against
The monsters and villains of my own mind

Inside, I am nothing more than a child,
Crying out for forgiveness for my
Multitude of sins
Against my ancestors of days past

Inside, I am nothing more than a child
That feels as though she isn’t
Good enough for those she loves;
She isn’t good enough to be here

Inside, I am nothing more than a child
That feels as though
She is nothing more than an inconvenience,
That she is nothing more than a burden